“This is fucked,” Gauge muttered.
He wasn’t wrong.
After arranging a sit down with Officer Andrews, I’d learned that shit with the Devils was worse than we thought. The Hoffman PD had already had a couple busts and four ODs that involved product branded with devil horns—their shitty, obvious calling card. The Devils weren’t just making moves, they were moving the fuck in on our territory.
There was a time, back before any of the current members—besides Doc who came in when shit was coming to a head—that the Disciples weren’t the club we had today. Drugs, guns, women, the club had dealings in all of it. The money had been good, and the thrill was too much a draw. Then, that shit nearly destroyed them. Brothers in prison, brothers getting shot. Even families were being targeted.
It wasn’t an easy road for the small sect of brothers that wanted to see an end to that shit to get the club there, but they fought tooth and nail to drag the club out of that darkness and make it what it was today.
Since then, we’ve kept that shit out of Hoffman. We weren’t the police, we weren’t even fucking vigilantes trying to save everyone. People wanted to take the drive past the town line and get that shit, they did it and we didn’t give a fuck. What mattered was that some assholes weren’t going to be preying on our town, and we made sure anyone that thought to do so knew it.
The Devils would get one warning. No “three strikes, you’re out” bullshit. I’d called a meet with their president to issue the statement. They’d either back the fuck off, or we’d do whatever necessary to make them.
Gauge, Roadrunner, Doc, and Tank were with me to deliver this message.
Which meant it was all of them, not just Gauge, getting pissed that we’d been waiting for going on a fucking hour.
“How the fuck long do we sit out here with our dicks in our hands while they pull this shit?” Gauge continued bitching.
Another time, I might have told him to stand down. Now, with the shit the Devils were pulling and the blatant disrespect they were showing by not being at the meet on time when us calling it meant they got to name the place, he was right to be ready to blow.
If they didn’t show soon, the warning would go out the fucking window.
“Code is that we wait until that hour mark,” Doc chimed in. “We got fifteen minutes left. At that point, the fuckers reap what they sow.”
There was no arguing that. It was the way shit was done. It was the way we worked. Gauge didn’t have to like it. Fuck, I didn’t have to like it and I wasn’t while we stood in the fucking sun on a remote patch of land two hours out of Hoffman. It was just the way it was.
With just over five minutes left on the clock before we rolled out and started planning out a new way to deal with the bullshit the Devils were creating, the sound of bikes up the road reached us. My jaw ticked, and it was a battle not to reach for my 9mm watching those assholes ride up.
We’d agreed on officers for both clubs, which revealed a fuck of a lot when their president, Wrench, rode up with only one man at his back. The Disciples were a brotherhood. We voted in brothers that would help man the ship, a sign of respect for what they offered. Those asshole Devils weren’t like that. Wrench had one man under him because the positions they had were about standing. Being the president was a power move for him, and he wasn’t relinquishing that to a whole host of officers. If I had to guess, that VP of his would be out in a permanent way if Wrench felt he was a threat to that control.
I decided right then and there, if this shit really went to hell in a way I hoped it wouldn’t, if we end up at war, I’d burn all their cuts myself. They didn’t deserve to have that shit in the first place.
The two assholes dismounted and sauntered over like we hadn’t been waiting. It was a power move, the same shit they probably pulled with their own club. Only difference was, it wasn’t going to work here.
“Stone,” the prick said.
“Wrench.”
As I faced off with him, I could feel the tension from my brothers at my back.
“You called the meet,” Wrench prompted.
“And you named the time. Maybe I’m feeling like makin’ you wait.”
The motherfucker grinned.
Fuck him.
“You got one week. I hear so much as a whisper that your asshole crew or any of that tainted shit you’re peddling is in Hoffman after that, then we got issues.”
Wrench fished out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag before he even acknowledged that I spoke.
“Fuckin’ A,” he said, looking back at his VP. “The Savage Disciples think they still got some fuckin’ pull in the world.”
I wanted to wipe that smile right off his fucking face.
“The fuck you say?”
He took another drag, flicking his ashes my direction. “Your whole fuckin’ club has gone soft,” he spat. “All your boys getting pussy whipped, your ass locked up—not that you were much of a threat anyway. Your motherfuckers couldn’t defend your turf if you tried, so we went for the opportunity.”
The only pussy there was him, too fucking scared to declare war. He had no idea what actually fighting one was like.
Wrench started walking toward me. I saw what would happen before it did, what he was forcing my boys to do, but I let it.
Before he got within reach, I heard the click of a gun cocking behind me and knew it was aimed at Wrench.
“Another step and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Gauge warned.
And there it was. This was meant to be a peaceful meet, and that shit was gone. Wrench might have been too much of a chicken shit to make the move, but he got what he wanted anyway.
Gauge had thrown down the gauntlet.
Wrench smiled again, and I hoped he had that fucking expression on his face when I put a bullet through his skull.
“See you around,” he warned.
It was tempting, so fucking tempting to give Gauge the go ahead to take his shot as the two of them went back to their bikes, but it wouldn’t change shit. If anything, it’d make all this even more fucked when their club retaliated.
This way, we had time to make our moves.
The two pricks were gone before Doc spoke, “You good, Pres?”
Not in the slightest.
I turned to face my brothers. “Patrols,” I ordered. “Get a schedule together. And call all the brothers in. We got church tomorrow.”
Without waiting to parse all that shit out, I went to my bike and got on.
Tonight, I’d go home to my woman.
Tomorrow, the Disciples would ready for war.